Today's Reading

I move to pick up the empty tray, and a taste like the candied jalapeños Gran makes at the end of the summer, sweet and hot, lights up my tongue. My head jerks in surprise, catching the younger man gazing toward the woman when the bearded man isn't looking.

I turn toward the kitchen, eager to avoid secrets I shouldn't know, only to collide with someone. Hard. The edge of the tray smashes into my chin and drives my teeth into my tongue. I stumble backward, tripping over my feet. Just as I'm about to end up ass over teakettle in front of everyone, a hand shoots out to grab my shoulder. When my gaze travels up the strong arm to an all-too- perfect face, it's only my stomach that plummets to the floor.

Cole Spencer. The town's golden boy, at least according to the gossip that fills the diner day in and day out. Class president, valedictorian, star quarterback, basically God's blessed gift to Caball Hollow all wrapped up in a six-foot package of muscles and glowing skin. His sun-kissed hair might as well be a goddamn halo.

He drops my arm and slides his hands into his pockets. "Watch where you're going, James."

'James', like he can't tell me apart from my sisters. Like we'd never been close. Like none of it had ever happened.

He hasn't been in here much since last year, but I heard he's helping with football training camp this summer, and it's tradition to come to the Harvest Moon after. A tradition Cole started back when his dad and mine still used to camp out at the corner table between shifts. Back when things were different. "Sorry." I nod slowly, sucking the sting out of my tongue. "Not all of us can float above the earth on angel wings."

The corners of his eyes narrow, and his body tenses up underneath his worn gray T-shirt. A reaction so subtle, I might have missed it if I hadn't been watching for it. While the entire town may revere the Spencer family, Cole has never been comfortable with the adoration or the pressure of keeping up appearances. Not when the Spencers have secrets of their own.

But my petty victory is short-lived, as a taste like raw ramps slides under my tongue, pungent and sharp with fear and disgust. My nose wrinkles reflexively, and I swallow hard against the invasion, struggling to push away any feelings that aren't my own. The kind that seep in whenever I'm not careful, until I'm heavy and bloated with them.

It's bad enough to be unwillingly privy to someone's innermost feelings, but it's gutting to have such a potent reminder of how differently Cole sees me now. And that he's right to.

"So can we sit here, or . . . ?" Bryson Ivers, the kicker for the football team and Cole's frequent shadow, slings an arm around Cole's shoulders and gestures toward an empty table near the door. I startle at his sudden appearance. "Whoa, sorry, didn't mean to interrupt . . ." He waves his hand between Cole and me. "Whatever this is."

My fingers tighten against the tray and my cheeks warm as Cole's honey- colored eyes come back into focus. There's something in his expression, gone too quick for me to name. A self-satisfied grin spreads across his lips in its place, and it dawns on me just how long I've been staring at him. I blink and look away.

"What was that all about?" Bryson asks as he pulls Cole toward the open table, not realizing or not caring that I'm still close enough to hear.

"You know how she is," Cole says with a half shrug. His voice drops lower, and I can't make out the rest of his words, but Bryson throws back his head and laughs.

I push through the swinging door to the kitchen, a bitter taste like chicory root in my mouth. I'm sure Cole will have forgotten all about me by the time he finishes his lunch, but I'll be replaying this moment for a good long while and kicking myself for letting him get under my skin.

"What's wrong?" Rowan asks when I scramble to the back of the kitchen. "I can't take the new table," I urgently whisper with a glance toward Mama and Gran. "Sorrel, will you do it?"

"My section is chock-full, Linden." Sorrel doesn't even look up as she checks over a tray, waiting for the rest of the order. "I have enough of my own tables to worry about."

"Who jerked a knot in your tail?" Rowan leans a hip against the counter next to Sorrel and crosses her arms. "You know Linden would do it for you."

Sorrel huffs and turns back to me. "There's not always going to be someone here to fight your battles, Linden. The sooner you learn that, the better." She shoots a dark look at Rowan. "That's how I'm helping her." As she shoves her order pad into the front pocket of her apron, she leans in and murmurs low so only I can hear her, "Good lord, quit being such a baby."

I look down and study my hands. "It's Cole," I say softly, the words sticking in my throat like gristle. I hate that he can still get to me after all this time.

With a pointed sigh in Sorrel's direction, Rowan pushes away from the counter and pulls off her dirty kitchen apron, the kind that's plain white and easy to bleach, exchanging it for the pretty embroidered one on the hook by the door.

...

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Today's Reading

I move to pick up the empty tray, and a taste like the candied jalapeños Gran makes at the end of the summer, sweet and hot, lights up my tongue. My head jerks in surprise, catching the younger man gazing toward the woman when the bearded man isn't looking.

I turn toward the kitchen, eager to avoid secrets I shouldn't know, only to collide with someone. Hard. The edge of the tray smashes into my chin and drives my teeth into my tongue. I stumble backward, tripping over my feet. Just as I'm about to end up ass over teakettle in front of everyone, a hand shoots out to grab my shoulder. When my gaze travels up the strong arm to an all-too- perfect face, it's only my stomach that plummets to the floor.

Cole Spencer. The town's golden boy, at least according to the gossip that fills the diner day in and day out. Class president, valedictorian, star quarterback, basically God's blessed gift to Caball Hollow all wrapped up in a six-foot package of muscles and glowing skin. His sun-kissed hair might as well be a goddamn halo.

He drops my arm and slides his hands into his pockets. "Watch where you're going, James."

'James', like he can't tell me apart from my sisters. Like we'd never been close. Like none of it had ever happened.

He hasn't been in here much since last year, but I heard he's helping with football training camp this summer, and it's tradition to come to the Harvest Moon after. A tradition Cole started back when his dad and mine still used to camp out at the corner table between shifts. Back when things were different. "Sorry." I nod slowly, sucking the sting out of my tongue. "Not all of us can float above the earth on angel wings."

The corners of his eyes narrow, and his body tenses up underneath his worn gray T-shirt. A reaction so subtle, I might have missed it if I hadn't been watching for it. While the entire town may revere the Spencer family, Cole has never been comfortable with the adoration or the pressure of keeping up appearances. Not when the Spencers have secrets of their own.

But my petty victory is short-lived, as a taste like raw ramps slides under my tongue, pungent and sharp with fear and disgust. My nose wrinkles reflexively, and I swallow hard against the invasion, struggling to push away any feelings that aren't my own. The kind that seep in whenever I'm not careful, until I'm heavy and bloated with them.

It's bad enough to be unwillingly privy to someone's innermost feelings, but it's gutting to have such a potent reminder of how differently Cole sees me now. And that he's right to.

"So can we sit here, or . . . ?" Bryson Ivers, the kicker for the football team and Cole's frequent shadow, slings an arm around Cole's shoulders and gestures toward an empty table near the door. I startle at his sudden appearance. "Whoa, sorry, didn't mean to interrupt . . ." He waves his hand between Cole and me. "Whatever this is."

My fingers tighten against the tray and my cheeks warm as Cole's honey- colored eyes come back into focus. There's something in his expression, gone too quick for me to name. A self-satisfied grin spreads across his lips in its place, and it dawns on me just how long I've been staring at him. I blink and look away.

"What was that all about?" Bryson asks as he pulls Cole toward the open table, not realizing or not caring that I'm still close enough to hear.

"You know how she is," Cole says with a half shrug. His voice drops lower, and I can't make out the rest of his words, but Bryson throws back his head and laughs.

I push through the swinging door to the kitchen, a bitter taste like chicory root in my mouth. I'm sure Cole will have forgotten all about me by the time he finishes his lunch, but I'll be replaying this moment for a good long while and kicking myself for letting him get under my skin.

"What's wrong?" Rowan asks when I scramble to the back of the kitchen. "I can't take the new table," I urgently whisper with a glance toward Mama and Gran. "Sorrel, will you do it?"

"My section is chock-full, Linden." Sorrel doesn't even look up as she checks over a tray, waiting for the rest of the order. "I have enough of my own tables to worry about."

"Who jerked a knot in your tail?" Rowan leans a hip against the counter next to Sorrel and crosses her arms. "You know Linden would do it for you."

Sorrel huffs and turns back to me. "There's not always going to be someone here to fight your battles, Linden. The sooner you learn that, the better." She shoots a dark look at Rowan. "That's how I'm helping her." As she shoves her order pad into the front pocket of her apron, she leans in and murmurs low so only I can hear her, "Good lord, quit being such a baby."

I look down and study my hands. "It's Cole," I say softly, the words sticking in my throat like gristle. I hate that he can still get to me after all this time.

With a pointed sigh in Sorrel's direction, Rowan pushes away from the counter and pulls off her dirty kitchen apron, the kind that's plain white and easy to bleach, exchanging it for the pretty embroidered one on the hook by the door.

...

Join the Library's Online Book Clubs and start receiving chapters from popular books in your daily email. Every day, Monday through Friday, we'll send you a portion of a book that takes only five minutes to read. Each Monday we begin a new book and by Friday you will have the chance to read 2 or 3 chapters, enough to know if it's a book you want to finish. You can read a wide variety of books including fiction, nonfiction, romance, business, teen and mystery books. Just give us your email address and five minutes a day, and we'll give you an exciting world of reading.

What our readers think...